Cold
by erikjavert24601
Summary: I seem to write these sorts a lot... Christine returns to a dying Erik, told from Erik's POV. Angsty, angsty sadness :-


Cold. It pervaded my body and my soul. I felt nothing, I cared for nothing, I was nothing. Except cold. All over. It was not the sharp icicle cold of jumping into the lake during the wintertime. It was a duller, more subtle, more painful cold, that seeped into my bones, making them want to shiver, though I could not even do that, for lack of strength, and seeped into my heart, which sluggishly kept beating-One-twotwo-One-One-one-OneTwoThree-irregularly into the dark silence of my tomb.

I could remember, though it was more painful than any wound, and I had a morbid fascination with torturing myself with images, words, feelings that never had been and never could be. Especially not now. I could see faces before my closed eyelids of people I had known, and some whom I wished I hadn't. I saw Nadir's, frowning with concern and with disappointment at what a waste I had allowed my life to become. I saw my mother's, filled with disgust and hatred for the son who eventually ruined her life. But most of all I saw Christine's full of fear and terror for the monster who had tried to love her, and had failed miserably.

It would not be long now before the faces and the torture and the cold were gone forever.

My breath caught in my throat and my body, through sheer animal reflex, for I never could have summoned either the will or strength to do so, began to convulse in dry, racking coughs. I sputtered and gasped for breath, though not by any will of my own. Asphyxiation would not be a bad way to die. Any way was better than simply lying on the ground and waiting for it, unable to do or think of anyone else.

I closed my eyes once more and fell into the nightmarish oblivion that had claimed me almost for as long as I could remember. Anything before it was like a bad dream, far away and elusive, but still inescapable and haunting.

I awoke to the sound of soft footsteps. Someone was in my lair. Perhaps they would kill me and get it over with. Perhaps it was her? There went the torture again...

I suddenly felt a small warmth upon my chest and a light near me. I gathered strength to open my eyes, then shut them quickly. It had been her face, her angel's face, floating in my vision above me. Perhaps the end was nearer than I had thought?

"Erik!" Her voice penetrated my ruined mind and I couldn't help myself. I had to open my eyes again. She was still there, her smooth forehead wrinkled in concern and her eyes filled with a sadness and fear I had never seen there before.

It took a good deal of strength to do so but I somehow managed to reach up one of my long skeletal arms. If I could touch her face, did that make her real? The vision smiled sadly at me and reached out its hand to meet mine. Contact was made, and she was solid and warm beneath my fingertips. She was real! She had come back! Just in time. Her hand guided mine to her face and pressed my clammy skeleton's bones against her fair, smooth cheek. O to have a fair face like that of my angel of mercy!

"You came back!" I rasped, my voice, my one former beauty, now distorted and ugly as my face in it's pain and weakness.

She nodded against my hand, then moved it to her mouth and kissed my palm with her gentle lips.

"I came back." Her breath was warm and sweet against my skin.

Dare I ask it?

"Why?" Why would you come back to comfort the monster you so fear, after all he has done to earn your hatred? But my strength was not enough for that speech, and it ended simply after the first word.

She did not reply right away, but I felt her two small arms go around me and felt myself being lifted, then lowered again. My head, as I could tell, was resting upon her bosom, and her child's arms were holding me, encircling me, warming me. I felt her tender cheek upon the top of my wretched skull, and felt the fingers of one hand running themselves lightly through the little hair I had.

She leaned down and whispered next to my ear, "Because I love you."

My eyes closed and I could feel the warm wetness on my cheeks. She had said the words to me, and they had come free and open from her own mouth. Those words which I had thought never to hear, and yet had hoped to from the moment I saw her sweet face. She had spoken them now, to me!

The pain which had before been a pleasant companion turned bitter and raw, and the edges of my vision were tinged with red. How odd it was that her presence made it both easier and more difficult to die? My breath caught once more and the coughing came again, ripping at my vocal chords. She held my body to her fiercely as it convulsed, clasping my head to her breast as if it could ease the coughing. I could see the specks of red on her porcelain skin. I felt tears on my forehead that I knew could not be mine.

The coughing eased as I gulped for air, but it became suddenly so much harder to breath. Through my noseless hole I could smell her scent, lavender, and perhaps that was what made me suddenly very tired and drowsy, though doubted it very much.

"Christine, I love you!" I gasped.

"I know, Erik, I know." she murmured and held me close.

The pain dulled, and I could feel her slipping away from me. Though it took all the strength I possessed, I forced myself to remain conscious. I needed only this one last gift from her, to make my life complete.

"Christine, will you... sing me to sleep...please?" She choked back a sob and I felt her nod against my skull. She gently lowered her crimson lips to my twisted ones and lingered there a moment, as if afraid to let me go"

Then I heard her voice, that instrument I had worked so hard to hone to perfection. Softly she sang, a lullaby for a child who had never known a mother, and now needed one most of all. I allowed my head to relax against her and, almost seamlessly, her voice gradually blended with others not of this world.


End file.
